“Tilly?” There was an urgency in his voice as he clung to her, holding her in his arms.
The roaring subsided, but the dizziness remained. “I am…for a moment, I feared I would swoon. I am dizzied, my stomach quite unexpectedly bilious.”
Somehow she managed the words.
“When was the last time you had your courses?” he asked, his voice sounding strangely hoarse.
She thought back, and realized she could not recall.
Which meant…
She could be with child.
The world spun once more under the impact of the realization.
“I do not remember,” she admitted, struggling to sift through the fog which seemed to have descended upon her mind.
There had been one occasion since his arrival, had there not?
Yes, but it had been during that first week, before they had been intimate with each other.
“Damn it,” he growled. “I thought I had been careful.”
So, too, had she. As she and Robin had grown closer, their feelings strengthening and bonding them, they had made a mutual decision to avoid the chance of her becoming with child. He had withdrawn from her each time they made love, avoiding spending inside her.
Each time with the exception of the first.
Trembling, she rose to her feet and turned to face Robin. Her stomach was still feeling sick, but she could not discern whether it was for the need to cast up her accounts again or if it was from shock.
Initially, she had been so desperate to become a mother that she would have been grateful for this realization. But everything had changed, and now, she feared what would happen if Longleigh were to realize she had fallen with child just as he had planned. What if he would not let her go, if the promise of a potential heir was a reality instead of a fantasy?
The dire ramifications tightened on her like a noose.
“I cannot be with child,” she said, feeling numb. “Not now.”
“I recognize the signs,” he said grimly. “They are undeniable, Tilly.”
Of course he would. He’d had a son. He’d had a wife who had been with child. Both gone to the angels now. And while she was not a mother herself, she was not ignorant of such matters. She had knowledgeable friends; one of her oldest and dearest friends was a mother. It had been Pippa who had told Tilly how to make certain to avoid fallingenceinte.
Her shaking hands went to her unsettled stomach. Could it be that a babe was growing within her?
If so, how foolish she was. She had missed her courses without ever taking note. She had been too wrapped up in Robin.
“It can’t be true,” she denied again, as if saying the words aloud would somehow alter the facts with which she had been presented.
“Come, love.” He drew an arm around her waist and gently guided her from the bathroom, to the sitting area where she liked to take her morning tea. “Have a seat in your favorite chair. You are pale.”
Of course his first worry would be for her. Dear, sweet, wonderful man.
She loved him so.
Tilly’s knees seemed to mutiny against her, and she landed in the chair utterly sans grace. Her stomach felt queasy once more, and she feared for a moment she might vomit again.
But as always, Robin was there, a calming, reassuring presence. He cupped her face, looking into her eyes, holding her captive with his brilliant blue stare. “Take a deep breath, Tilly. Slowly. Can you do that for me, love?”
She nodded. For him, she could do anything. One slow inhalation, then another. Her lungs felt heavy, but then, so did her entire being, the weight of this complication like a stone.
He kissed her forehead, and the scent of him, musk and soap, calmed her. She breathed in once more, bringing that comforting essence into her. “Better, love?”
